Persona 3 FES Fuuka's Recording: The Aftermath
by Caeila
Summary: A constrictive waist slimmer belt still traps Fuuka. Junpei gets to be a hero in his own way!


**Persona 3: FES The Journey Fuuka's Recording (AFTERMATH)**

Pairing: Fuuka x Junpei (they're just the ones featured)

Rating: K+ / PG ...because that seems about right.

Summary: A constrictive waist slimmer belt still traps Fuuka. It's Junpei's chance to be a hero!

Disclaimer: The usual. These characters belong to Atlus. You know that. Everything takes place in an alternate speculative universe.

Notes: Events overlap with the end of Fuuka's recording in-game. If you want a refresher as to the scene, look up "Persona Fuuka recording" on Youtube. I had been wondering how the heck she got out of it. I also like the idea of Fuuka and Junpei together, even though I know he gets thrown into a messy situation later. At this time (August 4, 2008), I haven't gotten to that part in the game yet, but couldn't wait to write this. Comments, suggestions, constructive criticisms welcome.

Thanks to squishybee for beta-reading and collaboration! :D

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**07/15/2009 17:08:34**

Fuuka Yamagishi was tired, sore and totally breathless. The elfin girl had been laughing so hard, she could barely breathe for the last minute. At least she was lying safely on her bed. No chance of falling on the floor and hitting her head. Every time she recovered enough to take another go at disabling the waist slimmer belt, she'd dissolve into a fit of giggling. "Ahahahahahha! Someone...help...!"

Through her tear-blinded eyes, Fuuka stabbed the power button again. "It's not...heeheehee..." She gasped for air. "...not working..." What could have possessed her to buy this infernal vibrating python from Tanaka's shopping show? Suffering for vanity was so overrated.

The boxy control panel on the motor in front held a dial. It did nothing but intensify the vibration. Even the lowest setting was devastatingly ticklish. She couldn't feel any sort of battery pack door. It was probably in some currently unreachable location: like between the motor and against the skin of her bare stomach. She couldn't reach the back buckle of the padded band. Stretching backwards like that exposed her completely to the belt's diabolical power. She wrenched weakly at the straps. It was firmly locked in place.

Exhausted from her efforts, she scrunched up tighter on the sepia bedspread. The sheets were imprinted with a sparse wood-brown design of her namesake, Japanese windflowers. She imagined herself a hysterical caterpillar on a dry leaf, all alone. It /was/ kind of funny, she thought ruefully, but being like that for the rest of the night was not. "Have to...heeheehee...wait...for the timer. Or the ba-batteries to run out..."

"Uh, Fuuka-chan?" A hesitant knocking sounded at the door. "You all right in there? What's so funny?"

"J-Junpei-kun...? O-oh...heeheehee..." Of all people, one of the boys? Fuuka would have been happy to see even dopey S.E.E.S. club advisor Ikutsuki-san at her door. She was sure she could trust Ikutsuki-san to keep quiet, but Junpei Iori was one of the worst lechers at school, not to mention the class clown, and considering his constant teasing of Yukari-chan, it was unlikely she'd ever live this down.

Despite that, he had always been kind to her, being especially concerned with her comfort when she had first joined everyone in the S.E.E.S. dorm. He had even cheerfully helped her move boxes in and brought her a melon pan as a welcoming present.

Junpei's strong tenor filtered through the door. "Hey, you're not laughing at me, are you? I overheard Mitsuru-senpai say she was a little worried about you. But if you're okay..."

He was going to leave! There might not be another chance to get help. Her dormmates would find her cold, dead body in bed the next day, face frozen in a death rictus from giggling until she was out of breath...UGH, NO! She lifted her head a centimeter. "Junpei-kun...I'm s-stuck! Heeheehee...! Aaaah, s-save meeee!" she wailed.

"Huh? Fuuka-chan!" BAM! It sounded like a panicked Junpei was ramming his shoulder against the door. BAM! "Dammit, I can't get the door open!" he yelled. He crashed into the door again. BAM!

Fuuka gulped for oxygen and tried to sit up, but all she could do was laugh harder. The infernal belt just wouldn't quit. The whole situation was ridiculous anyway. She fell back. "T-Try the door! Door is...open...!"

There was a muttered curse. The door clicked. Fuuka wiped tears from her eyes as Junpei appeared. He clenched and unclenched his fists. "Man, I thought you were being attacked--?" he said.

"W-waist slimmer pad...ticklish! Around..my waist! Ahahahahaha! Help...!" Fuuka panted between words, about ready to faint. She weakly wiggled herself around on the mattress to face him.

He was standing there. With his mouth open. He waggled his eyebrows and grinned.

Fuuka's eyes widened and a wave of heat crept up her neck. "EEEK! D-don't even...go anywhere...with that thought! Heeheehee! Just! Get! This! Off!"

"You've been hanging around Yuka-tan too long, now you sound like her." Cautiously, Junpei reached for the device strapped against her middle. "Whoa, it's shaking like a belly dancer!" He squared his shoulders and plunged two hands inside the semi-elastic belt, against her skin.

"AAAAAH! HAHAHAHAHAHA! STOP IT!" Her bedsheets wrinkled and bunched as she thrashed around.

Junpei yanked his hands out. "Okay, touching bad! Bad! Uh, what else?" He grasped two ends of the happily humming belt and tried to pull it apart.

"Eeee! N-no! ...making it...hahahaha...tighter! B-back..." Fuuka giggled helplessly. Her voice faded.

Junpei knelt on her bed and pushed her onto her back. He poked at the belt's single button, flipped the dial and tried to pull the motor away from Fuuka's body. The device refused to loosen.

If he couldn't help her get the thing off, maybe he could cut it. He could run over to his room and grab a two-handed sword, but he might hurt her in the process. Junpei scanned the room. No scissors on her desk or storage cubes. Maybe inside a drawer.

It's kind of quiet, he realized. Uh oh. Fuuka wasn't making any noise at all. Only the belt's soft drone continued. He punched the side of his head a few times, hoping something inspired would fall out. "Think. Option one: freak out. Option two: scream like a baby. Option three: what's option three?" he muttered. "Dammit Fuuka-chan, stay with me..."

There was only one tactic Junpei knew to fix anything electronic. He straddled her limp body, clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Sorry about this! I don't want to hurt you!" he apologized to the girl's unconscious form. He flung his arms wide to the side, like a sumo wrestler ready to bear hug his opponent into submission. With a mighty WHACK! he slammed his palms together on the belt's motor cube, as if boxing someone's ears. Fuuka bounced a little from the impact. "Aw man, come on! Turn...OFF!" He smashed at it again. The motor made a grinding noise and died. Abrupt silence rang in his ears.

"Option three: when in doubt, brute force!" Junpei fiddled at her waist, pulling certain straps inward first, then out, until the belt loosened. "Oi senorita! You okay? Wakey wakey!" He tried not to shake her too hard. She looked so pale and fragile. He noticed her eyelids were framed with long dark lashes. It reminded him of the soft edges of butterfly wings. They fluttered open and Junpei looked into luminous sea-green eyes.

"Oh." Fuuka took a deep breath. "I'm not ticklish anymore." She hiccuped, vaguely noticing her sore abs. Details of his face appeared as she focused on it. He was not particularly handsome, but he had strong straight nose, square chin, and chiseled cheekbones. The swoop of his baseball cap visor shaded his eyes, but she felt him looking at her with concern. Warm, rock-like hands gripped her bare shoulders. The faint scent of his citrus aftershave wafted over her as she tried to control her breathing.

Fuuka slowly became aware that she wore nothing but the belt and teal two-piece. The halter top and bottom weren't made of particularly sturdy fabric either. The "swimsuit" was more meant for lounging on sand than romping in water. And he was...sitting astride her hips. "Thank you for r-rescuing me, Junpei-kun," she managed to hiccup, her cheeks warming. "Umm..."

Junpei flashed a happy grin big enough to split his head in half. He thumped himself on the chest. "Don't mention it! Fixing a TV, fixing a waist massager! You can count on me! By the way, Fuuka-chan, you /don't/ need this. Believe me." As he shifted to pat the waist slimmer motor cube on her stomach, the iron bed frame squeaked. It echoed the suddenly nervous squeak in her throat.

Mitsuru Kirijo, Gekkoukan High senior class president, appeared at the door with a clipboard in hand. "Yamagishi? Your door was open and I heard noise, so I came back to see if you--" The commanding older girl brushed back a lock of red hair that had fallen into her eyes.

Junpei flung himself into standing position, arms rigid at his sides. He was obviously trying hard to imagine an angelic halo atop his head. Fuuka struggled to sit up. Her entire body, not just her stomach, balked at every movement.

"Oh my. I didn't know you had company." Mitsuru's eyes flicked back and forth between Junpei's tomato-red face and Fuuka's cherry-colored cheeks. "Hmmm. Yamagishi, come see me when you have a moment. It's...not that important, but I'd like to go over some documents." She leveled freezing eyes at Junpei. "As for you, Iori, I'll speak to you. Later."

Mitsuru spun away, leaving a frosty crackle in the humid July air. Her heels made clicking noises on the hardwood floor, the sharp sound fading down the stairs.

"Wait, Senpai!" Junpei popped out the door like a desperate jack-in-the box. "Really, she was--it's not what you think!" He dashed after Mitsuru.

"You /are/ the man," Fuuka giggled fondly at his vanishing back, feeling slightly braver now that he had left. She wasn't really worried. Although Mitsuru-senpai's bite could be lethal, she usually growled and left it at that.

As Fuuka pushed herself off the mattress, the low-frequency waist massager slid to the floor with a thump. She shoved it back into its shipping box. Her sore midriff muscles twanged. For a second, she wondered if the belt had actually made her waist smaller. Never mind, it was going back for a refund ASAP. No one in her right mind would go through that again.

She pulled her thoughts back to her savior. "For now, I'll have to make sure Junpei-kun doesn't get into too much trouble because of me," Fuuka nodded to herself. She moved to her closet and reached for a light blue cotton blouse. "Right after I get dressed."

...END...


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